


i'll sit in the back with your sweatshirt

by allMessedup



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cheating, Drug Use, Drunk Dialing, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Heartbreak, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, god Idk it's just kind of heavy, it's not a happy story at all, kind of?, not drunk but like drugged up, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 01:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20770004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allMessedup/pseuds/allMessedup
Summary: and she shouldn't.she shouldn't, she shouldn't, she shouldn't.but she can't help herself and the coming heartbreak was pushing her to and giving her hope that maybe he wasn't fucked up this time.— Max Verstappen x OFC





	i'll sit in the back with your sweatshirt

It was the navy of it.

Of all the days spent curled up in him, no lights on and curtains drawn as the days grew longer; when nothing mattered and all that kept him awake was the idea of him leaving and not being there for the next few months as he flew from country to country in pursuit of his dreams. 

And he grew up, and maybe he was making up for all those missed teenage days with drinks and parties and smoke but something had happened between then and now. 

**3.05  
Why do you only call me when you’re fucked up?**

**3.05  
Who says**

**3.05  
Shouldn’t Instagram everything when you want to lie, yeah?**

**3.10  
Whatever**

**3.11  
Pick up your phone**

And she shouldn’t. It’s been on the foot of her bed for the whole night, vibrating and ringing and showing his picture and number with only a ‘swipe to answer’ option as if testing her. And it was, _he was_, because he knew she’d pick up eventually and all he had to do was wait it out; all he had to do was call enough times, try long enough, and she’d break and pick it up and pretend she wasn’t about to cry. 

She threw her phone away, back to the foot of her bed.

She sat at the head of her bed, leaning against the headboard with her knees curled up to her chest, elbows pushing down on her knees and hands curled up, one over the other, like he used to do to her. Her lips trembled, she couldn’t see the wall opposite her much, and she pressed her hands against her mouth. 

1.

_A pause._

2.

_A drop._

3.

_A beat._

4.

She shouldn’t. Shouldn’t let him do this to her, let him keep her on a string like this while he acted like he still cared and thought about her from time to time, keep her waiting on the one phone call where he was actually sober and decent and just as upset as she was because he couldn’t believe what he was doing and _I know I promised I wouldn’t turn out like my dad but I don’t know how else I’m supposed to be and God I need you here and I miss you and-_

**3.47  
What do you want.**

**3.48  
You**

**3.48  
Call me when it’s a decent time.**

**3.48  
You’re up**

**3.49  
I’m going to sleep soon.**

**3.50  
** **Don’t lie to me**

**3.50  
I am.**

**3.50  
So could you fuck off.**

**4.00  
I miss you**

He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to wait and act like he was sobering up and this was coming from his heart. 

She laid on her side, curling into herself.

“I told you to stop; I have an early morning.”

“You still replied.” 

“Your calling wouldn’t have let me sleep anyway.” 

He laughed on the other line, and she heard crashing and shattering and a woman’s voice and she knew she shouldn’t have picked up the call. 

“Yeah well,” he chuckled again, and she heard a moan and she hoped it didn’t come from the girl on the other line with him but she was still hiccuping and the tears still burned her cheeks while she waited.

“What do you want.” 

“I thought I saw you here.” 

“Why would I ever be there?” 

She had to whisper, and she bet he was struggling to hear her with the long distance and she was trying her hardest to at least calm her breathing so it didn’t sound like she was still crying over some celebrity who didn’t care about her or her well-being. 

“I don’t know, saw someone who looked like you. She was hot.”

“That’s nice to know.” 

“Yeah, and she was wearing those heels you love and the little lace skirt.” 

“Right.” 

“Remember when you used to go out in that skirt? I could never keep my hands off of you.” 

She breathed in, as deep as she could, and closed her eyes because she could. She remembered how his hands were always dry and rough and full of calluses, big enough to wrap itself around her wrist and engulf her own hand. 

And if she closed her eyes hard enough, she could imagine how he would curl his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up, thumb on the centre of her bottom lip and always playing and swiping along it while he looked straight into her eyes, burning baby blues staring straight through her and they both knew he didn’t have to but he hesitated every time he tried to initiate a kiss because he was so scared she’d pull away.

“No.” 

She wondered if he could hear her gulp, hear the difficulty she was having in swallowing that pleading and crying and how her throat barely felt open at that point when she heard him sigh and _tsk _at her. 

She should get mad, she really should. 

“You’re starting to bore me babe.” 

“I’m not your babe.” 

“You’re always my babe.” His voice was all light and airy and dazed, just like when he used to whisper to her in the dead of the night, barely loud enough to hear over the cicadas outside.

“I think you have me confused with the woman in your lap.” 

“Who says there’s a girl?”

“The moans and the begs for your attention mostly.” 

“I love when you pretend you don’t care.” 

“Should you really be talking to me when you have her?” 

“And I love it when you pretend to be cold.”

“Max, please…” 

“But you’re _really _starting to bore me, baby.” 

And there it was. 

She had to smile and chuckle in disbelief, the tears welling up and burning again behind her eyes as she closed them. Of course, _of course _because that’s all he was looking out of this. She wasn’t playing his game, she didn’t want to and she_ should just fucking hang up now,_ but she stayed on the phone in hopes that maybe she was wrong and he would sober up and they’d finally have a proper conversation for once and…

And…

“Baby?”

And she missed him. 

“I know you miss me.” 

Say something.

_Say something and then break up with him and delete his number and never look back because you know you deserve better so why are you settling and waiting around for him? _

“Can you just call me back later? I’m trying to get to sleep.” 

“Or you can just do that later.”

“Max-”

“Nobody does what you do; nobody does it as well as you do.” 

“Max, please-”

“Just entertain me for a while, before the night ends for me. I miss you, I really do.” 

His voice had gone soft and dazed again and she wanted to believe that he was sobering up and the high was wearing off but she still heard screaming and cheering in the background and no doubt he just took another puff, maybe shotgunned it into the girl’s mouth and made her quiet. 

“Let me go; let this go.” 

She heard the noise get further, get dimmer and she heard him growl through the phone and a slam a few minutes later. 

“Look-”

“Let it go.” 

“I’m outside for you, I pushed a model off for you; the least you could do is-” 

“The least _you_ could do is stop doing this. Let everything go, let everything we ever had go.” 

She took in a breath, and this would have to be the last thing she says to him because she really can’t let him keep draining her like this, she really can’t keep living like this while he’s enjoying himself without the weight of her on his shoulders.

“I came outside for you so-”

“And stop calling me.” 

She could hear the protests in her mind, all his “_but_” and “_I love you_” and “_I’m sorry I’ll be better I promise_” and she was tempted to keep the call going just to see how he would plead this time but she knew she couldn’t when she heard him take in a breath. 

Her phone was thrown to the floor, onto the pile of old Red Bull Racing shirts and she heard the vibrations of her phone through all the clothes, throwing his cap on top of her phone to dim the lit screen, before curling more into herself and taking shaking breaths. 

She could wake up in 2 hours and pretend nothing happened; wait for another 2 weeks until his next doped up call and answer and repeat this again because she can’t make herself block his number and ignore his calls for long, least he was sane for once during them.


End file.
